Chasing the Outer Night
by Zenzao
Summary: When word comes in that a Lord of the Outer Night has been sighted for the first time in decades, Warden Harry Dresden is assigned to infiltrate its city with a precise strike team and dismantle the ancient vampire's stronghold. Given his track record for punching above his weight limit, however, will that plan stick or will they end up fighting the near-god itself? AU-pre Changes.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Harry Dresden and the respective characters, settings, terms, objects, and et all depicted herein from The Dresden Files belong to and are the property of Jim Butcher and/or his publishers. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**CHASING THE OUTER NIGHT**

Prologue

Medellín, Colombia. Nice place this time of year. Warm weather, beautiful architecture, and accommodating locals, always ready to offer a greeting and a quick _bite_.

But don't be fooled by the beauty. Too many things in this world present an enrapturing front to beguile what lays beneath. I've seen and fought enough of them to recognize a lure that's been cast, and even with my Wizard's Sight closed, there was something just a little too appealing about the first young woman to sidle up to me at the marketplace.

Her flesh-mask was only a shade duskier than my ex's natural tones, smooth black hair drawn back in a ponytail to leave her half-lidded black eyes simmering with... well, everything you'd expect a supposed twenty-something female in her prime to display. A ragged white tee tied off at the midriff displayed prominent cleavage above and a toned belly below, and worn daisy dukes conformed to her hips as if they had been painted on rather than shimmied into. A pair of flipflops protected her feet from the rough, uneven cobblestone, not that you'd guess that from the way she sashayed over to me smooth as silk.

She met my gaze steadfastly and offered a saucy smirk. "_Wel_come to _Medellín_," she purred, accent rolling off her tongue delightedly. "I see you lack a _companion_. Would you like a _tour _of our modest city?"

_Mhm_. A man could get used to hearing that kind of tone for an hour or two. I know my libido appreciated it. I smiled and answered her, using a deliberately bad choice of Spanish, "Muéstrame el camino, seducir."

Her nose crinkled. "No, no. Stick with your Americana," she said without the same flair as before. "It will be easier for us both."

I can imagine it would. If she thought I only had a mangled grasp of the local dialect I could get away with feigning ignorance of the conversations along the way. Still, I put on an apologetic frown and said, "The guidebook always seems to scramble up something, I hope I didn't cause offense?"

"You..." she swallowed her response and smiled a little less brilliantly, "it is señora, sir. No matter, let us get under way."

I let her take my hand and guide me out of the marketplace. The crowds forced us close together, walking along between labyrinthine streets and buildings practically atop one another. Naturally my height afforded me a wonderful vantage point. I steadfastly kept my eyes ahead - although if I glanced down once or twice to make sure I didn't step on her smooth heels, who can blame me? I'm sure she noticed, turning her head this way and that way to point out a few relics from the old days while carefully skirting the real issues. I nodded and "Mhmm'd" and played the dutiful sap taken in by her looks and proximity until she finally dragged me down a less-used alleyway.

"What's down here?" I finally ventured.

In response she turned and pressed me up against the wall, cool moist lips latching onto my own. Immediately her tongue darted out, exchanging the toxic saliva that would reduce me into a relaxed bliss - the better for drinking from, now and every day to come.

I can't begin to tell you how good that felt. Really. It lit up all the little endorphin sensors in my brain and made my legs go weak, and she rode me down to the alley floor before straddling my hips. It was only then that she broke the rohypnol kiss and licked her lips in anticipation.

"I think I'll enjoy you slowly," she said. Her whole body shivered and abruptly burst open, and something black and ichor-y grew to fill the open space until it was taller than I was. It hunched over, spraying a noxious odor into my face. I smiled dreamily and closed my eyes.

_Snicker-snack_.

Silent as an empty grave, the silver blade flashed out from the side and shortened the vampire by a head, only at the end making the tell-tale _swish _as it severed neck from shoulders. A plume of black-blood erupted from the stump and fountained across my body, while the sword swung twice and thrice more to terminate the thrashing limbs before they could harm me. In just seconds the air rippled and a much more attractive young woman appeared on my left, blond tresses matted with sweat. A gray Warden's cloak ran from throat to ankle over a pale pink sweater-vest and faded blue jeans, and she wiped the sword clean on one edge of that cloak before sheathing it again. The garment soaked in the blood without spilling a drop.

"What were you thinking!" she hissed, crouching down to get a grip into my splattered shirt and shake me back and forth, though not hard enough to cause a concussion in my dazed state. "How often have you told me, over and over and _over_ not to let them make physical contact! Not to let them get so much as a drop of that foul toxin in their mouths on my bare skin!" she ranted in a vehement whisper close to panic.

Molly Carpenter, ladies and gents, my one-time apprentice-turned-fellow Warden and Wizard of the White Council in recent times.

I let her rattle my skull around for a few more moments before finally raising and placing a hand atop her own. My left, to be precise, which had been burned and branded many years ago in two separate occasions. Most of the scarring had faded in the half a decade since, but that old hourglass sigil stood out more crisply these days than it had before, and it was mildly-hot to the touch as a result of the new fuel rumbling in my pipes 24-7.

She let go and backed up a pace or so without standing, staring in concern.

I wiped some of the muck off my face with my other hand and opened my eyes again, crisp and clear and devoid of any drug. "You did well, grasshopper, but giving me whiplash is going a bit far with the celebrations."

Molly huffed and looked away a moment, eyes downcast in thought, then glanced back to mine and studied my expression seriously. "How come you're rational again? I was expecting to have to lug your weight back to the meeting point." She paused another moment. "Not that I'm not grateful."

"When you get to be my age, Molly, a little more churning lust racing through the veins just doesn't seem that impressive anymore. I've seen and sampled far better delights."

The young Warden let a ghost of a smile grace her lips, relief growing at my tone of voice, though she squashed the emotion quickly. "You shouldn't have let it happen in the first place!"

I shrugged. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be clean as a whistle from here on out, no more hormonal death-kisses, I swear. Cross my heart and hope to... live?"

Molly huffed again and looked me in the eyes seriously. "We need to get that cleaned off before it draws every Red inside of a mile to us, the stench is horrible."

I stood up and drew her with me. "It tastes pretty foul too." I slipped out of my shoes and kicked them several feet back toward the alley opening, shook out my blasting rod, and aimed it roughly skyward before intoning, "_Aquilevatus!"_

A stream of scalding hot water flew thirty feet into the air, did a neat pirouette that would have scored a solid 9.9 out all but the Russian judge, and ruptured into a few thousand droplets of near-boiling rain. Some of it splashed against the walls uselessly, some fell out to our sides, but most of it came straight down. Molly yelped and ducked back beneath her Warden cloak with a jog for my shoes, taking shelter out of range.

Personally, after close to fifteen years of cold showers every other time I wanted to clean up, it felt like a little piece of heaven for the few seconds it lasted. I could feel an alien mirth at the comparison, there and gone again by the time I acknowledged it, which was nothing new.

"Ah," I sighed contentedly. "That felt about as good as... well, never mind." A bit of steam wafted up from my exposed skin, while my jeans and tourist tee were soaked through and dripping steadily to the pool of hot water-and-blood at my feet. I tiptoed out of that and concentrated on my next spell of choice, "_Ventas reductas._"

Warm wind stirred to life on a quiet sigh, gliding back and forth in quick succession about my form. It took near enough to five minutes before the worst of the wetness had dried out, including my socks.

"Now, where were we?" I asked Molly, smiling. She arched a brow and crossed her arms underneath her considerable bust, half concealed beneath that cloak.

"You were acting foolish and I was following discretely?" She offered coolly. Apparently her moodiness had returned. I suppose throwing around magic so casually wasn't a wise idea in this city, even with my dampener in effect.

"I like to think of it as distracting a potential source of Intel. I don't suppose returning to the marketplace will give us much more of a lead, do you?"

"Not unless you plan on letting every 'seducir' drag you around by the-"

"Hey!" I protested feebly. "I was fully conscious of my actions the entire time, thank you very much."

In response Molly simply shook her head and vanished beneath another steady veil, masking sight, scent, and body heat.

* * *

End of Prologue.


	2. Chapter 1: Rendezvous in a Hotel Room

**Disclaimer:** Harry Dresden and the respective characters, settings, terms, objects, and et all depicted herein from The Dresden Files belong to and are the property of Jim Butcher and/or his publishers. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Spoilers For:** _Changes_, _Cold Days, Skin Game_.

**CHASING THE OUTER NIGHT**

Chapter 1: Rendezvous in a Hotel Room.  


As the sun began to set, Molly and I found ourselves beating a gradual retreat to the rundown tourist hotel on the outskirts of the city, conveniently run by the Venatori, that I had booked a room at for two weeks ahead of schedule. Our day had been fairly productive even with the slight snafu of two more vamp attacks.

"Welcome, Senor Langtry!" the middle-aged attendant behind the desk greeted warmly. I heard Molly make the slightest snort behind her veil, and had to smile myself in appreciation of the pseudonym. Venatori run or not, this place was still right on the edge of Medellín's hotspot, a nest of Reds enough to make the late Duke Paulo Ortega proud, and we couldn't afford to run around with our true names. I returned the man's greeting and inquired about tonight's dinner service before heading up the creaking stairs to room number 42.

Before I so much as keyed the door I paused to inhale, gather my magical senses, and send a probe through the old wood and iron frame on the exhale. It pinged off my ward instantly, reflecting three times, before coming back with the all clear signal. Only then did I insert my physical key, after having pat down my pockets for the few moments the aforementioned probe took to clear, and I thrust the door open ahead of myself with a yawn and a stretch.

Molly sidled by with a nudge of her hip and I followed her in. Only once the door was shut tight did I drop my guard, and that because I had gone over this room with about a thousand fine-tooth combs and layered it with four different warding matrices. If any one of them had given a bad read during the ping, I'd have known something beyond the vanilla room service had disturbed the room since we'd left it this morning.

The next moment Molly's veils', _plural_, fizzled out and_ Hey Presto_, four other figures materialized as if from thin air about the room. Neither of us reacted in the slightest beyond a faint murmur of relief from my ex-apprentice as she strode toward the bathroom. The nearest of these magically appearing scoundrels, a dark haired Renaissance painting brought to life with all the physical bulk of an old-world Spartan, lounged lazily against the headrest of the nearest bed with a book in his hand. His blue-gray eyes looked up from the shoddy, dogeared romance novel he had been entertaining himself with since leaving my apartment back in Chicago days ago and he smiled a searingly bright smile, all straight teeth without a hint of enamel decay. My half-brother, Thomas.

"About damn time you showed up again," he said without much animosity. "Do you have any idea how long its been? Crammed into this place with _them_?" He jerked his head in the direction of the rest of the team who had stayed behind.

I nodded in greeting to him and turned my gaze aside to the others in the room. There was Jared Kincaid against the back wall, a mercenary, reassembling his sniper rifle from the parts laid out on a beach towel before him. He didn't glance up from his methodical work but inclined his head an inch to acknowledge our arrival. I returned the gesture, certain he was watching from the corners of his eyes. Directly across the room and lazing against the closed-curtained window sat the second-to-last of our entourage. I still wasn't vested in how far to trust him, honestly. He was a scion, as was Kincaid, but whereas I knew exactly who and what I was dealing with in the Hellhound, I had too little an idea what brand Goodman Gray represented.

He was the plainest sort of plain available. Nondescript, blending into a crowd on most streets in the Americas and a few other parts of the world. The only things I truly knew about him was that he could shape-shift and he came cheap, which given my budget as a Warden was fairly important; Kincaid had broke that bank for the foreseeable future, and Thomas was doing this as a family favor.

Which brought me around to the Sixth Ranger to our Five Man Band, standing off in the shadows behind the door in an easy sort of trance. Bedecked from head to toes in a purple so dark it seemed black, Rashid, the Gatekeeper, stood solemn watch over parts of our world and the Nevernever beyond it that were of the utmost importance. We hadn't gotten along very well since that incident at the island Demonreach some years ago, but he was always there when I least expected and often most needed his aid, as proven with Molly twice over now.

He was Good People, as I liked to say, despite our differences.

Clutched in his hands was his simple wood staff, aglow with subtle Arabic script as my own staff tended to when I was deeply invested in a spell, though of an entirely nonsensical language. I turned back to Thomas and pitched my voice lower so as not to disturb Rashid's effort, "How long has he been at that?"

Thomas covered a lazy yawn and shrugged. "I don't know. An hour? Three? I gave up on the room after you and Molls departed." I eyed him curiously at the term for my ex-apprentice and, as if sensing the impending question I had, he added, "Oh, and we're out of sandwiches."

I blinked a moment, taken aback. "What do you mean we're out of sandwiches? I packed the ice chests full for most of a week and the ration schedule is taped to the lids on both sides!" Thomas looked over to the aforementioned objects and sort of wiggled his hand, as if that notion was of no significance.

"Gray eats his weight in gold. And the ice melted."

"Huh." I gave our newest member another considering once-over as he snored on obliviously and marched over to examine the coolers. The runes inside should have preserved the ice for days to come, but the outside of each chest was warm to the touch, never a good thing when you have perishables to keep. When I flicked open the first lid the water sloshed up cheerfully to blind me in one eye.

I may have sworn. Loudly. "Gah dammit, I hate it when that happens!"

Rashid stirred from his trance at my back with a steady exhalation and blinked open his own gaze. "Ah, Warden Dresden," he intoned solemnly the next moment while I was still rubbing at my eye. I could hear his cloak rustle as he turned away and spoke again, "Warden Carpenter. I may assume you have had a successful venture, then?"

"You know what they say about assuming," Molly said cheerfully as she finished drying her hands on a towelette.

He chuckled lightly. "So I do. I have taken the chance that it will not backfire unduly this time."

"Well, you're partly right," I interrupted. It had been a long day and I didn't fancy the thought of hauling up enough food from the dinner hall below to feed six people- I'm a big guy, but I'm not _that_ big. Raising any more suspicions than we already had today did not settle well with me. My stomach rumbled pitifully to boot at the thought of what it could have sampled. I scowled, snapped the lid shut, and sat down atop the failed cooler louder than necessary, and then I called over to Gray to wake him up before going into any explanations.

"Mhn, what is it, Wizard?" the shape-shifter/steak-stealer uttered clearly without opening his eyes. My scowl sharpened.

"If you're coherent after knocking back half of those sandwiches I'll assume-" Molly snickered despite the situation, earning a round of my disapproving glare, "-that you haven't really been asleep. So do me a favor and look at us while you're listening."

Gray sighed and rolled open his lids, revealing the oddly metallic brown-bronze disks he had been concealing.

"I'll have you know that I only consumed them so as not to waste precious cargo. It was three hours ago besides, and you had told us not to expect your return short of dusk." He nodded to the window at his back. "Therefore I did what I thought was best, in lieu of the ward-keeper."

He had a point. I still wasn't happy about eating the gruel below instead of one or two of Mac's steak sandwiches, as I had since we'd arrived here. Those weren't exactly cheap when you bought in bulk, and my tab had reached its limit early.

"Fair enough." I grumbled as I turned back to the rest of the room, shelving the matter for now. We had bigger fish to fry than those small wards malfunctioning, though I made a silent note to check out the big wards when we were through to be sure _they_ hadn't started to falter. "Here's what we know; five out of every ten people in this city are already hooked on Red. Three of the rest are actual vamps, of which one in three can control their thirst long enough not to try and eat me out in the open streets, unlike her brood-mates. The last two-in-ten are newbies to Medellín that have a low chance of escaping without being permanently tainted, but I wouldn't bank on it while the Red King's servitor is in charge of operations."

My chest rose and fell in momentary silence as I contemplated what would become of the people in this city if this operation was successful. I hadn't seen the outcome of a major breakdown for almost a decade, and my grandfather had eliminated the mess of the late Duke Paolo Ortega's death by bringing a defunct satellite down on Paolo's entire base of operations. Every man, woman, and child, turned or not, had died in the resultant blast.

Even now I was still disturbed by the implications of that kind of act brought about with magic.

"That isn't going to happen here," I muttered beneath my breath.

"What isn't?" Thomas asked.

I blinked and glanced up to him from where my gaze had settled upon my burned hand, and the sigil faintly gleaming.

"Nothing, my mind drifted off of the subject," I deflected. No one else knew what I had done for an eleventh-hour power up, and I intended to keep it that way until this mission was over and done with. "We were able to scout out most of the buildings and the routes available today with minimal fuss. The miasma in the air is present no matter which one we followed, however, there were occasional spikes and crescendos that went on for a while. Molly?" I offered the spotlight to her.

She stepped forward a bit and closed her eyes in thought. "He's definitely deep inside of the city. I think there might be more below ground, or at least routes we didn't see that were connected through the Nevernever, given the sporadic readings of, um, _concentrated evil_ in greater and lesser waves. It just doesn't make sense for so many different points to appear even in a Red Court nest."

Kincaid interjected. "If I may?" Molly blinked her eyes open and nodded. "This city is _old_, as evidenced by the architecture. And the blood spilled goes back generations. Factor in ritual sacrifice atop the mundane murders stacking up until the last decade and you have your answer to the assorted readings you may have picked up on; the target couldn't have picked a better hole to hide in from a White Council operative doing exactly what you two wizards are doing. He could be two buildings down from a hospital and neither of you could confirm it."

I had to admit that was a fair point. It was also a dirty, cheating, frustrating-to-hell-and-back reason to sour my mood further.

"So what's on your mind to get around that little snafu?"

Kincaid slid another part into his rifle with a soft click and reluctantly set the fully reassembled gun down. "Gray and I will repeat your walk around, tonight. That will require your assistance again Miss Carpenter." He paused to gauge her reaction. Molly exhaled, for a moment letting her fatigue read across her face. She put up a good front but this place was playing bloody havoc with her mental state. I opened my mouth to protest, for her sake, but then the moment passed and she smiled wearily.

"If that's what it takes."

"Are you certain you can retain your veils so long again?"

A little of her old fire came back into her voice, "Please, I could hold a basic veil in my sleep. It won't take much more to fully mask the two of you once I'm stationary."

Kincaid searched her face. He nodded once and continued, "As I was saying, between my own and Gray's capabilities I expect to have the target narrowed down to within a four block radius, after which we'll scout out vulnerabilities to exploit before returning come dawn."

I had to raise an objection. "How are you two going to communicate if you can't see, smell, or hear each other?"

Kincaid glanced sidelong at Gray. Gray met his gaze, and the mercenary answered in a complete non-answer, "We'll manage."

* * *

End of Chapter.


End file.
